Bitterness and Forgiveness
by thecoldforest
Summary: Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hate. It is a power that breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness.
1. Prologue

**(A/N)**

**Please not that this is an OC fic, like all my others, and one that involves Nezumi's little sister. Here, she did not die. This is told in her best friend's point of view.**

**I do not own No.6, Just my OCs. **

* * *

**Bitterness and Forgiveness: Prologue**

At times, memories are the greatest of inconveniences. At times, they only serve to hold us back, binding our limbs, tieing us to the weight of our past experiences, forcing us to hesitate, to think. At times, I won't deny, that weight that's holding us back will often save our lives.

A thief never walks the same path twice, and it's either because he's dead, he almost died, or he was successful. It's not a hard concept to understand.

However, at that moment, I did not want to think. I did not want to remember how gentle his hand had been in my hair, or that faded glimpse of a grin from a nostalgic childhood memory of golden sunshine and soft breezes. I didn't want to remember the blood of another, how it seemed to cling to your skin, no matter how many times you scrubbed at it, trying to wash it away. It never goes away though, it's there, always there, and only continues to thicken as the body count continues upward.

Did I really want _his_ blood on my hands, too? To have it cling my to my flesh like an invisible leech, unable to wash it away? Would it all, in the end, be worth it?

Is this what drives people insane?

I can't keep my hand from trembling around the gun, can't stop my finger from shaking against the trigger guard. In my grasp, it feels heavier than it ever had been before, but that's only because, against all my hopes, that it is him. Could he really be capable? Just that thought was crushing my resolve.

Beneath the pounding rain, the deafening thunder, all I could hear is his breathing rapid, ragged and uneven. I could picture him before me, scrawny, dirty, with his hair in a mess and his face sunken in and hollow looking, like a ghost, back pressed up against a soaked wall while being dressed in his best. Never would I have recognised him, had I been only two weeks younger. Never. But his eyes did not change, even after all this time, and that's how I knew. Now, I was sure, just by listening to his breathing, he was terrified.

He was terrified.

Beyond scared.

Of me.

Of the gun in my hand.

He knew. I knew. We both knew.

Were we both thinking of the same thing at that moment? Were the same hazy memories running through his mind as they were through mine? Did he know how bad I wanted nothing more than to turn back time, to take us back to those old memories that made me hesitate?

Probably not. The only thought going through his mind at that moment was how he didn't want to die, not here in the rain, not ever.

What had he done to deserve this anyway?

What had any of us done?

It was then that I felt her hands, one wrapping around my shoulder, the other matching my hold on the gun, mimicking it exactly as it came to rest perfectly on top of mine. Her skin was cold against mine.

"Don't waver." Those words were as soft as the wind in my ear as she pressed herself into my back, but I heard them over everything else, loud and strong.

Gritting my teeth, I nodded once, forcing out the golden memory of a smiling boy with gentle hands, and replaced them with the monster before me. I knew what he did. He knew, too. Hopefully, he was still a man enough not to be surprised that this was a possible outcome. The boy from my memories wouldn't be.

Beneath the splattering of a million water drops, I heard him suck in a sharp breath. I could almost hear his heartbeat racing. No where to go, no where to hide. Not this time.

"P-please." Came a stuttered word. "Please, don't do this." He was begging. His voice sounded so broken. That was not _his_ voice.

"Do it." she said into my ear.

"No! Please!"

"End it now."

"No! NONONO!"

Memories were such an inconvenience sometimes. I couldn't stop them. We're home again. Smiles mix with darkness. Pain. Her heart beat against my shoulder, so calm. She was breathing, too. Warm, beneath the cold.

Living people were warm.

"I'll do it if you can't."

"Please!"

"It's okay." My words are whispered, sudden, and all is quiet except for the rain. He doesn't breathe. He heard me. Good. My words are for him only."I'll save you." I say.

The man before me exhales. He's relieved. "Lala-"

Without letting him finish, I pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gun going off in my hand, the force of it kicking back at me, was greater than it ever had been before. And, it's almost like I can feel the single bullet slice through the air, striking its mark. There's another sound, one that makes me want to puke, and something warm splatter against my hand, my face. So warm.

It'll never leave me, never. Not even as it already starts to wash away in the rain.

"Please, don't call me that anymore." I whisper to him, and I'm glad that I can't see the body of my older brother crumple to the dirty ground. "I said I'd save you, didn't I?"

For the longest time, it seemed like all I could hear was his gurgled, struggled breathing. He choked. He coughed. He sputtered. Half words formed but they never made any sense.

Then, after an eternity, all was silent as he finally gave in, save for our breathing, the rain, and her heartbeat against my shoulder. She didn't let me go when the gun slipped from my grasp, clattering to the ground, or when I closed my sightless eyes, going limp against her. She held me tighter.

Warm.

Living people sure were warm.

* * *

There is only darkness when I awake. Only darkness, as it is the only thing I have left to see. I almost choose to close my eyes again, to disappear into the world of warmth and sunshine from which I had come, but she stops me.

"Don't." She says from somewhere close by, as if she could read my mind. I wouldn't be surprised if she could, by now.

Blinking once, I sat up from whatever makeshift bed she had made for me, warm, dry, and empty. "Sorry." I say, bringing a hand to my face.

"For what?" She asks.

"I was selfish."

There was a slight pause. "So was I. We're even now."

For a moment, we were both silent. It was an empty silence, neither awkward nor comfortable, but all the same, it's unbearable.

"Where are we?" I ask, running a finger across the scars around my eyes. From somewhere close, I assume where she is, there is a soft rustling.

"Somewhere safe." She says simply, and something pokes at my arm, gently through the thick material of my coat. A strip of slightly material is placed in my hand when I reach for it.

"For how long?"

"I don't know."

I nod, rubbing my thumb against the material in my palm. "Then, should we just go now?"

"We?" She says, sounding surprised.

Nodding again, I say, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I have to be selfish again." I reply, holding out the material in my hand.

She takes it, her skin cold and warm against mine. "It's alright." She says slowly.

There is movement around me, soft and near silent, and I close my eyes. "Mavie?"

"Yeah?"

"I am sorry."

" I know, Lala, so stop already."

"Sorry." I whisper.

"La-"

"Sorry."

* * *

**(A/N) **

**I'll admit I am a little confused about the ending, but oh well. Inukashi, and maybe Shion, will appear in chapter 1.**

**Until next update**

**~ tcf**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

There have been times, over the passing years, where I would find myself thinking on the past as I sat by my little window, watching the change of the seasons and the paths and the growth of the people who occupied that world, and realize I was envisioning things that I had never seen before and therefore could not have held to memory- that those things had been the nothing more than illusions created by my own imagination to satisfy the emptiness I felt in my heart during my younger years when the world had only been an empty, black void of just nothing. It was a strange thing to take notice of, the realization leaving an awkward feeling behind my eyes, in the very back of my mind, which reminded me of the blurriness that came with looking at the world when fully submerged in water. It was a feeling that left me restless, conflicted with the need to prove to myself that what I remembered was, indeed, the truth of things and the need to correct my way of thinking and replace the images I had made myself with those in reality. One thought would lead to another and, just about as often as I chose to lock myself away in my apartment, I would end up out on the streets, usually dressed improperly for the weather, just walking, taking in what I lost with the vision that I had been given that still surprised me, even to this day.

Those times I spent on the streets were both heartbreaking and astounding as I took in all that took place around me. The sounds, the smells, they were all familiar and unfamiliar as old mixed with new. All the sights were new and, much to the disdain of my younger self, quite different from what I had always imagined during my teenage years. It had left me discouraged, at first, for quite some time and left me thinking, though not in completely structured thoughts, that I had no grasp on reality what so ever. The first time I had come to this conclusion, about a month after my vision had been restored, the world still too bright, I had stumbled upon Inukashi's hotel without even realizing it until the dogs had come to greet me as they had in the past. No longer were there any giant fragments of once grand buildings strewn apart in at its entrance nor were there any collapsed walls or caved in ceilings. In fact, it looked near new, the signs of recent construction work still visible in some places. The sight of Inukashi though, who I had Shion described to me in as much detail as he possibly could manage, had been enough to make me want nothing more than to find some hole to crawl into and disappear. Standing before me, a hand on his hip and an expression on his face that I would later describe as grumpy, was the boy that I had once worked for and somewhat lived with for nearly a year, the one that always yelled at me and Shion for slacking off when we were supposed to wash the dogs or clear an area of the building. Dark skinned and thin, his hair still long and unkept, Inukashi was no doubt taller than when we had last met, a little over two years prior to that date, and despite his roughly shown familiarity he had been nothing more than a stranger to me.

I remember fleeing from that encounter quite shamefully, tears in my eyes, though the path I took during my escape is almost impossible to fully recollect. The heavily crowded street that I tore my way through, pushing and shoving past people, not even bothering to apologize to those who complained or shot rude obscenities in my direction as I went, turned out to be what once was the market street of the West Block where, on my first day, I nearly had gotten my head blown off by a double barreled shotgun wielded by an angry seller of rotten fruit and vegetables. How I had gotten to the underground rooms and how I even knew that these were the same rooms was a complete mystery. The heavy metal door had been sealed shut from the outside, evidence that they were most likely no longer occupied, so it was just pure luck that I had been able to open it like I had been able to before.

I'm sure it would've annoyed the previous owner to no end, had he still been there to witness it.

The darkness that took over as I closed myself in brought only a faint sense of relief. I didn't know what I was hoping for when I entered that place, perhaps a chance at something familiar, but if it was familiarity I was searching for, I did not find much of. My eyes had adjusted quickly to the darkness, adapting to the dim light that filtered through the tiny cracks around the door, allowing me to see only unfamiliar things that I knew would be there. Scattered piles of single and solitary bricks, along with a few pieces of loose paper, decorated the short hallway leading to two closed doors at the end. After all the times I had maneuvered through this space completely blind, I had no doubt I could easily make it through when everything was more or less visible. However, the first step inward, away from the door, was the hardest to take. So badly I had wanted, at the very least, for that place to have remained the same. I was still coughing up sobs by the time I reached the doors, tears falling without care as my hand grasped the knob of the door on the right. I had paused, hesitated, for so long that first time that hand had gone numb from the coldness that thrived in that underground space. I knew that, once I opened that door I would be faced with reality once again, but I had so wanted to believe. If everything remained the same there, then maybe my whole concept of what was real and what was not wouldn't be as warped as it seemed.

It was a foolish and selfish thing to want to believe in. No warmth greeted me when I pushed open that door, which usually accumulated in the small space, and there was no annoyed comment about letting the warm air out. There was no pleased greeting that came after that comment, no smell of soup that cooked on the stove that occasionally made a strange _ping _sound. The siblings did not bicker, as they often did when they were together. All there was was a darkness that seemed to stretch on forever, absolutely no light coming from the room what so ever. There was no warmth- only a cold emptiness that was silent, save for the squealing of the door as it slowly sung fully open. My eyes were locked on to that darkness, completely fixated as tears started to fall even harder than before, leaving me unable to look away in the slightest as I slid to my knees and cried until I, eventually, fell asleep.

* * *

The fact that Shion found me there, several hours later, wasn't entirely a coincidence, but might also be considered one. That day, he had already been planning on visiting Inukashi, taking a walk through the new West Block, remembering the past, because it was a day he had been forced to take off from work by his mother and several others, who insisted that the city could better survive with out him for one day compared to a whole week with him in the hospital. It seemed like quite an over dramatic thing to say, but at the time it needed to be done.

It was Inukashi who, supposedly quite sneakily, brought up our meeting and my sudden and rude departure. Worrying like he does, Shion began a search, slightly upset that Inukashi wouldn't lift a finger to help, claiming that what I did was not his problem at all. A half an hour passed before he realized that I might just be where I was. According to the white haired male himself, he panicked quite a bit when he found me in the doorway, completely unresponsive. After a checking for a pulse and for signs of breathing, he stood with a sigh and step over me into the darkness, making his way through the room completely on memory, relighting the gas lamps and the stove before picking me up and laying me on the single bed, still pushed up in the corner against the wall.

Covering me with a blanket, dusty with the lack of use, Shion had left, fully expecting me to be awake and gone by the time he returned, that when he did return, a bag of groceries in one arm, the thought that I had died in my sleep passed through his mind. I found out about this much later, and can honestly say I was quite touched at how he checked for a pulse every few minutes as he prepared his specialty soup- created through much practice and more than a few snide remarks on his weak skills as a house wife- making enough for two, instead of one, as he had originally intended.

* * *

I remember waking up to familiar warmth, the sound of a soft _ping_ greeting me. There was light on the other side of my eyelids, comfortably dim, and I knew it was a light that would only be bright enough to see clearly. It wasn't a light that would burn my eyes like the lights did at home, but I still did not want to open them. I thought to myself, _it'd be fine to stay like this. _Everything would be fine, if I didn't open my eyes. I had been so sure of that, so trapped to that thought, that I didn't even notice the rustle of fabric near my head or feel the presence of another person bending over me. It was because of that that when I felt two fingers, slim and cold, press gently into a beating cord in my neck, my eyes flew open, meeting the red eyed gaze that looked down on my worriedly for only an instant before I jerked into a sitting position and let out a scream.

Shion, though I didn't know it was him at the time, quite gracelessly and shamelessly, with an expression on his face that I would later find hilarious, stumbled back several steps, nearly burning his hand on the stove, let out his own startled, slightly girlish scream.

* * *

Looking back on it, Shion didn't look at all like I had expected him to.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I was expecting him to look like, since every time I asked for a description of him, he only ever gave me a vague response. He was plain, in facial appearance, nowhere near as handsome as his roommate (the fact that he considered his room made handsome made me wonder about several things, but I let it pass when I actually met that said room mate). A little on the short side when it came to height. Pale haired and thin. Shion had left quite a lot of room for imagination, perhaps for the worse. I had been expecting to be faced with some sort of deformity for the reluctance in which he spoke about himself. In the past, I had usually been on the verge of telling him it was alright if he was hideous whenever the topic came up. I had been blind, so looks didn't really matter to me. I remained silent though, for fear I'd somehow insult him.

I didn't expect that his pale hair would actually be near snow white, looking almost completely unnatural on someone so young. I didn't expect the redness of his irises, which only looked gentle instead of fierce or frightening, albeit extremely tired. I didn't expect the expressiveness of his face, betraying emotions which he tried to hide. I defiantly didn't expect only the scar, colored somewhere between pale red and a dark pink that seemed to coil down his neck, disappearing past the collar of his shirt.

After a while, once I got used to his appearance, I realized, not really surprised, that Shion was actually quite handsome- just in his own, subtle way. When I told him of this, he turned quite an amusing shade of red and stuttered some kind of incoherent response and looked away. I could only smile.

* * *

That night, the first night, in the underground rooms was indeed a strange night. At least, it was for me. I cannot speak on it for Shion.

It began with the white haired male halfway on and halfway off the couch, chest heaving and eyes wide, one arm thrown out behind him for support and the over his heart, and me, my eyes no doubt just as wide as his, heart pounding in panic as I pressed my back up against the wall, trying to put as much space between us as possible. The amount of time we spent in those positions is unknown; both of us too surprised or to scared to speak. The only sound, save our breathing, came from the steady bubbling sound from the boiling pot on the stove and the stoves own characteristic _ping_.

Shion, I remember, had been the first to speak.

Letting out a deep breath, he stood with a practiced ease, coming to a height that no doubt would tower over my smaller frame, and gave me a small, relieved smile. "You had me worried." He said. If his voice had been the same as it had been when I last saw him, I'm sure I would've known instantly that it was Shion. This Shion's voice, however, was slightly deeper and smoother, reminding me of another's, though in retrospect the two sounded nothing alike. I had only spoken to Shion once since my return six months ago, and that was only on the phone. His secretary had managed everything else for him, from where I would live to the process of my medical treatments.

Back then, I remember thinking, with a bit more than a hint of bitterness, _what a big shot Shion had become._

When I didn't respond as he had possibly hoped, his smile turned into that of a worried frown. "Lala?" He took a step forward as I winced at the sound of that name and I pressed myself even further into the wall. "Lala, are you alright? What's wrong?"

As the male continued his approach, evidentially throwing all previous conceptions of polite distance and personal space to the wind, I looked from side to side, in search for an escape. By the time I mapped out a path in my mind he already had one knee on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, with his hand outstretched in my direction. I let out a short scream and slapped it away. "Get away from me!"

I would ignore the hurt expression that would pass over his face for several minutes as he, after a pause, backed off; the springs of the mattress squeaking as his weight disappeared, holding his hands up. My eyes didn't leave his figure, not once, as I crawled off the bed myself. Keeping low, like I had been taught, I moved sideways so that I always stayed facing him and slowly made my way to the wall of bookcases to the left, keeping my back pressed lightly against them only slightly, making my way slowly to the door. My fingertips brushed lightly against the rough wooden edges lightly, a habitual action despite the fact that I haven't even stepped foot in the room before today for two years.

Across the room, the white haired man dropped to his hands to his sides, his expression becoming slowly more and more concerned with each step I took. "Lala?"

"Shut up!" I shouted at him, surprising myself as I winced at the sound of that name, freezing where I was. Only a certain few had still called me that, and most of them were beyond reach now, one way or another. This man, I thought I knew for sure, wasn't one of those few. "How do you know that name? I don't know you!" This was a dangerous situation for me. If this man was one of _them_, then my life in the city that used to be No.6 would be over. I would have to flee or die, if I survived this encounter, and, within the next week, according to the doctors, go blind once again. The last part, at the time, didn't worry me as much as the idea of actually leaving.

_Are you going to leave again?_

I had promised I wouldn't, swore on the graves of those most important to me, but if it came to it…Not even Shion, with his status, could've protected me. No, instead, I would be nothing more than a danger to those left that I still cared about here. If this man was one of _them_, then this was an old hate, and killing me here, right now, would end nearly a decade's worth of hunting and killing for their sakes. And the fact that he had left me alive instead of killing me off when I was out, only meant that he had orders to take me back, to be tortured- punished- before my death. Maybe, if they caught me a few years earlier, I would've willingly accepted that fate- but not yet, not now, and not ever. That time had passed and I had promises to keep and things to do until, at the very least, he decided to come back.

However, if my existence in this new city was a danger, then I would have no choice…

"'You don't know me'?" He repeated, sounding genuinely confused. "Lala, don't you-?"

"Shut up!" I shouted again, cutting him off. This man had no right to call me that, none at all. Before he could even respond again, I took another quick side step before turning, running those few steps to the door without looking back.

The man reached me before I even got the door fully open, his hands grabbing at my shoulders, startlingly gentle, flipping me around to face him. The man's red eyes seemed to glow in shadows of his face, caused by the dim lighting in the room. As he opened him mouth to speak, I brought my knee upward, kneeing him none to gently in the private area between his legs. Groaning, the man visibly paled and those red eyes rolled upward, groaning, but he didn't let go of me as he doubled over slightly, instead his grip tightening.

"Let go!" I yelled, trying to pry his hands off of me, clawing at his wrists and fingers.

"No." He said, holding my shoulders even tighter. I brought my knee up again, hitting his abdominal area hard. The white haired man gasped out, his head hanging, but he still didn't let go. Not as I hit him, clawed at him, kicked him, and pulled his hair, trying anything to get away. He held me there, taking whatever I dealt him with relative silence. He didn't even try to stop me. That made me panic even more.

"Let go!" I repeated, shouts turning to screams. "Let go, let go, let go!" I couldn't go back to that place, I couldn't. If he wasn't even fighting back, that must mean that he not only has to return me alive, but also unharmed, too.

The idea was near terrifying.

"No." He repeated in response each time, with each blow.

"Please!"

"Lala!" He yelled back, voice deep and commanding. With it, I froze, stopping my attack, wide eyed. He straightened up, his eyes had been the only thing showing the pain he felt back then as he did so, and he locked gazes with me. I couldn't look away then, and felt myself tense up when he removed one hand from my shoulder, the left hand, and flinched when he brought his right hand up, close to my face, thinking he would hit me. Instead he just left it there; let it hang in my vision. "Shion." He said slowly, a little breathlessly. "Remember, Lala?" He paused. "I'm Shion."

_I'm Shion!_

"Shi…on?" I repeated, confused. To me, it had been impossible for it to be Shion, who spent more time at his workplace than anywhere else and didn't even bother to go home to his apartment most nights. There was no way this was Shion in front of me. He had a different voice. It was not Shion.

Yet, slowly, and with almost a great reluctance, my gaze shifted from crimson eyes to the palm of his hand, held up for me to see. Right then and there, it would've been the perfect time to run, to gather my things and leave without a trace. Goodbye, No.6, Shion, and Inukashi. Old man Rikiga, if he was still alive somewhere, and Karan, who I had only met once. Goodbye, goodbye. Instead, my eyes locked on the raised flesh of a jagged scar, a pale pinkish white in color, faded with age. Slowly, the man released his grip on my other shoulder, lifting his hand with the palm facing me, mimicking his other.

_Run, no matter what, the first chance you get, and never look back._

I stayed where I was, turning to face his other hand. There, slashing diagonally across his palm, was a scar identical to the one on his other hand.

_It's hard to tell who has your back from who has your back long enough to stab you in it._

"Shion?" I said again, louder, but only slightly. The scarred man nodded. Hesitantly, I brought my own hands up to, taking one of his hands in one of mine, while reaching out to him with the other.

_You have such girly hands, Shion._

_I do not!_

Letting his unoccupied hand fall limply to his side, the man leaned forward slightly, brushing my hand with his cheek. The area around his right eyes was starting to swell shut where I kneed him, and there was a thin stream of blood coming from his nose that had already dried.

I whimpered softly, the sound passing through my lips before I could stop it. "Shion..."

No, it wasn't right. This wasn't Shion, I refused to accept it!

"Shion."

_You don't have a mustache, Shion._

I didn't hurt Shion.

"_Shion."_

_You're still a virgin, aren't you, Shion? How cute._

I wouldn't hurt Shion.

"Shion." Tears were welling up in my eyes again. Why?

Through a swelling face, he smiled. "You remember me now, Lala?"

_I like you, Shion. Despite everything you've been through, you haven't become bitter._

Slowly, I nodded, letting him go. "Yeah."

Why?

Smiling even wider -it looked somewhat painful- Shion, yet another familiar stranger in my eyes, attempted a graceful bow with a flourishing hand, like he was inviting me back in the room again. "Would you kindly join me for dinner, My Lady?" Coming from Shion, it was a horrible imitation, especially with his new voice, but it made me smile, even if it was a bit forced, just like it used to.

"What a crappy imitation." I told him, nodding.

"Hey, I'm doing my best here."

Why is he acting the same?  
"You'd bring even the worst actors to tears with that performance."

Why?

"That's a little bit much, don't you think?"

Laughing softly, I shook my heard. "Everything's a bit much for you, Shion."

Why am I acting like that?

"That's not true!" He said, sounding a bit hurt. I laughed once.

"As you will have it, Your Greatness." Smiling, I stepped back into the underground room, and Shion followed, grumbling something I didn't quite understand. I didn't care; too many questions were running through my head at that moment.

Why, Shion? Why did you act as if nothing happened? Why do you still treat me the same, after what I did? Why, Shion, why?

Why didn't you even try to fight back?

* * *

The loud thumping of a kick on solid wood roused from my present time window sitting reminiscence, making me blink several time in confusion. The sun had set outside the window, the streetlights illuminating themselves as the last bits of sunshine shone around the mountains in the distant horizon, blocked from complete view by rows of buildings.

Frowning, I stood from my chair by the window, pushing my glasses farther up my nose to keep them from falling off completely as I stretched. Despite my weekly treatments, my vision had gradually begun to worsen again, and now full time glasses or contacts were necessary. It was a bother, but I dealt with it with no complaints.

The kicking sound repeated, much more impatient this time, and I sighed. "Patience! " I shouted at the door, padding softly towards it with a yawn. It wasn't as if he didn't have his own key, geeze.

Upon opening the door, I met the gaze of a tall blond man, his face twisted slightly with a weird look of irritation and exhaustion. There were two paper bags in each of his arms and a gallon of milk hooked in one of his fingers.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. "Took you long enough." He said as I moved aside to let him through.

"You have your own key, you know." I replied in response, shutting the door behind him. "You should make use of it more often."

"My hands were full, in case you didn't notice."

"No one told you to go shopping."

"The emptiness of the refrigerator did."

"I was going to go tomorrow, anyway."

"That," The blonde says as he places the bags of groceries on the small excuse of a dining room table before turning to face me, "is what you always say. But, may I ask, what is tomorrow?"

Tomorrow? Tomorrow is…"Saturday?" I say hopefully, helplessly clueless on the date.

"Sunday." He corrects the corners of his mouth turning upward in a slight smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. "And don't we just love Sundays?"

I sighed. "Yay." There was no hint of enthusiasm in my voice. We –more specifically me- hated Sundays. Sundays were evil days that involved doctors and needles and a fox-faced pervert. Afterwards was a bakery with an oven that seemed to exist only to burn me or shut my arm in its heavy door.

Taking deliberate steps, I walked up to the tall man who was nice enough to go shopping for me, and, stretching on my tip-toes, planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He needed to shave. "Thank you, Natsu, for being so kind as to do my grocery shopping. I'd starve to death without you." I grinned up at him as he glowered down at me, blue-gray eyes showing only annoyance.

"Quit it."

"I can't show my gratitude?" I ask, faking a hurt tone.

"Just go shower, you stink."

"How mean, so do you."

"I don't trust you in the kitchen. I don't want to have the fire department called here _again_." As if to prove a point, his gaze flicked up to the black scorch mark on the ceiling.

"But that was only one time."

"Go. Shower." This was not a request.

Putting my hands up, I surrendered. "Fine, fine, I'm going." I said and turned.

"And don't use all the water this time, either!" He called as I rounded the corner to the bathroom.

"I won't!" But I probably will anyway, and he knows it.

* * *

**Author's NOte~**

**Wow, it's so long. Amazing. And, look, Shion and Inukashi are here, too! -victory-**

**So, what did you think? Is it believable for No.6? What do you think of Lala and Natsu? Why do you think didn't fight back? At that time, he was a well fed and fit 20 year old, so he could've easily stopped Lala.**

**This chap is dedicated to:**

**Ocean of my Existence (No, she didn't just kill Nezumi...I love him to much for her to be able to do that. Thanks for the review!)**

**AoiYokai**

**Chocolatechuprecabra ( I hope I spelled that right OTL)**

**Incendo (thank you for letting me rant and cry on your shoulder for a series you don't even follow)**

**AhikuBoruchi (those short stories, my friend -grins- thank you fir the inspiration they gave me)**

**Yuneyn (you unintentionally motivated me to finish this, thank you!)**

**And anyone reading this now! Thank you for viewing and I hope you stick around for more! **

**Until next update,**

**-tcf**

**PS- I don't own No.6 or its characters, just my OCs. **


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